


stars will fall out for you

by ericdire (aarobron)



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-30 00:34:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19031149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aarobron/pseuds/ericdire
Summary: Dele has always been a lone wolf, and he wore the badge like it was something to be proud of. Not relying on anyone, because he had no one to rely on – and even when the Hickfords took him in, he was scared of needing them too much. He was terrified that they’d realised that he was hard work, too much for them to handle, and he’d back on the streets again before he could even blink.But Eric has changed all that. There was something about those calm blue eyes and the odd Portuguese word that he slipped into conversation that broke all of Dele’s walls, and before he knew it he was free falling and the only person waiting to catch him was Eric. That alone made it easy enough to love him.





	stars will fall out for you

**Author's Note:**

> so, this is set after the liverpool game back in march but i forgot i wrote it and found it going through my google docs today.
> 
> little bit (very) late, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless! 
> 
> feedback always appreciated xx

Dele storms through the front door louder than is strictly necessary, slamming it behind him with a bang that echoes through the house. The lights are all off and Eric's probably in bed already, but Dele can't think past the fuzz in his mind.

He slams his bag on the floor and it lands with a thump. If Eric wasn't already awake, he definitely is now, and Dele both wants to see him and wants to avoid him at the same time. He wants comfort but he can't handle the sympathy that comes with it, and the line of his shoulders tenses up as he braces himself for Eric's thundering footsteps down the stairs.

That doesn't happen, though. He heads through to the kitchen unseeingly, thinking about the pros and cons of having cereal for dinner and then sleeping for twelve hours. But he doesn't even get as far as the fridge before he notices the low lamplight, and the way it casts shadows across Eric's face.

“You scared me!” He says, clutching at his chest. Eric doesn't say a word, just keeps staring at him with a level gaze, face neutral. Dele can't read him. That's always been a problem. “What? What have I done?”

“Nothing,” Eric says quietly, finally. His mouth quirks up into a small smile, and Dele can see the sincerity in it from the other side of the kitchen. It makes something in his chest loosen, and he forgets all about the shitty day for a second - not that it lasts. “How are you feeling?”

_Fine until you asked_ , Dele thinks, but he forces himself to keep his mouth shut. Instead, he turns and rummages in the cupboards. “Alright,” he says, but it's forced and noncommittal. This is the least okay he's felt for a long time. He shrugs as if to get his point across, and Eric's gaze is burning into the back of his head. “It is what it is, innit?”

“You've been spending too much time with H,” Eric says mildly. He stands, the barstool scraping across the tiles sickeningly, and then the only sound in the room is his socked feet padding across the floor and Dele's own deep breaths. Eric softens his voice as he speaks again, body heat radiating in the scant millimetres of space between them. “Talk to me, Del. What's going on up there?”

He leans forward and presses a kiss to Dele's temple to punctuate his words, palms on the balls of the younger man's shoulders and fingers burning hot through the thin material of Dele's t-shirt. The movement is so gentle it hurts, and Dele can't help but lean back into it.

“Was it a bad game?” He asks quietly, closing the cupboard door, but he still doesn't turn around. The thoughts had been in his head the whole way back from Liverpool, when he had his headphones in and refused to talk to anyone, but it’s still difficult to get the words out. He forces them up his throat, sharp as a razor and making him bleed. “I mean - was I bad? I know I had a quiet game, but - was it my fault? That we lost?”

Must have been bad, then, if the silence is anything to go by. Eric doesn't say anything for too long; he draws in a sharp breath before sliding his arms around Dele's chest, pulling him in for a tight hug and burying his nose into the younger man's curls.

“No,” he says eventually, but all Dele can think of is the lie underneath it. He didn't make a single impact, and he knows that it really all boils down to the defence - but he felt shaky, unconfident in his passes and stumbling into positions. It just didn't feel _right_ , and there's a part of him that's scared it's all his fault. That his mood affected the rest of the team. “No, of course not. You were there, Dele. You know it was Hugo's mistake. That's why we lost. Nothing to do with you.”

“We've lost four out of the last five games - we're pathetic,” Dele spits bitterly. He hangs his head and feels Eric's lips at the nape of his neck, brushing soft paths of warmth where he feels so cold. “Huddersfield have won more points than us in that time. Fucking _Huddersfield_.”

Eric spins the younger man round until he's facing him, but he doesn't complain when Dele tucks his face into his neck. It's just that if he meets Eric's gaze right now, he might break – and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to put himself back together again after.

“It’ll be alright,” Eric says. His voice is a gentle coo, barely above a whisper, lips brushing the shell of Dele’s ear as he soothes him, and he’s got one hand cupped around the back of Dele’s neck. Holding him in place, tight enough that Dele feels like all his seams won’t split open. He’s still furious, but he feels it melting away under Eric’s hot palm. “We’ll be home soon, Del, and then everything will change. I promise.” 

"How would you know?" Dele asks. His words aren’t kind, voice a low rumble in his chest, but he can’t stop them. He wishes, for the hundredth time since he’s been with Eric, that he could be a better man, a better _boyfriend_ – but a spade is a spade and all Dele really knows is how to hurt people. “You’ve barely played this season. You don’t know what it feels like.”

He can feel Eric flinch, physically recoil, but he doesn’t pull away. Instad, he holds on even tighter, sliding his fingers up to curl in Dele’s hair. It makes the younger man feel worse, if possible, and he wishes he could take the words back but he can’t because he doesn’t think before he speaks, and it’s the ugliest trait of his entire personality.

“Let’s not do this tonight, Del,” Eric says. Ever the pacifist, is Eric Dier. Hates arguments and the idea of confrontation makes him balk. That’s what growing up in a loving family does to you, Dele supposes, but he wouldn’t know. “You need to sleep.” 

He wants to argue, but tiredness washes over him and makes his eyes feel heavy. He knows he’s being irrational, that a good night’s sleep will sort him right out, but the tiny, sadistic part of his mind just wants to drown in the self pity. Every team goes through a blip like this at least once a season, and he should have expected it, he really should have, but – he thought it would be different this time. He truly thought Tottenham were in with a shot.

How deluded could he really be?

That thought clouds his mind as Eric places his palm, hot and heavy, on the nape of Dele’s neck and guides him up the stairs. It’s hard work to make his feet move; one in front of the other, left right left right, but Eric is a calming presence behind him the whole way. Like if Dele falls, he’s always going to be there to catch him. It’s reassuring, makes the choking grip on his heart loosen a fraction.

It should be terrifying to be this dependant on one person.

Dele has always been a lone wolf, and he wore the badge like it was something to be proud of. Not relying on anyone, because he had no one to rely on – and even when the Hickfords took him in, he was scared of needing them too much. He was terrified that they’d realised that he was hard work, too much for them to handle, and he’d back on the streets again before he could even blink.

But Eric has changed all that. There was something about those calm blue eyes and the odd Portuguese word that he slipped into conversation that broke all of Dele’s walls, and before he knew it he was free falling and the only person waiting to catch him was Eric. That alone made it easy enough to love him.

He snaps back to reality when Eric is easing him to sit on the edge of the bed, every touch tender and careful. Being with Eric is the first time he's ever felt like someone gives a shit, and he knows, when the older man starts unlacing his trainers and pulling them off his feet, that he's loved. Right here, in this house and this room and in Eric's heart, he can be the person he truly is behind the mask - and he is _loved_.

"Are you okay?" Eric asks quietly, kneeling on the floor in front of Dele. He's staring up with the most concerned look in his eyes, and something catches in Dele's chest, breathtaking and achingly sweet.

Where else could he find a love like this? Unconditional and unwavering? 

"I didn't mean to be nasty. I'm sorry," he says suddenly, after a silence that lasts a beat too long. Eric just smiles, the tiniest quirk of his lips, and curls his hand around Dele's calf, touch warm and reassuring. He knows what Dele's like after a loss: sharp and hurtful, but he somehow doesn't ever hold it against him. "I love you."

"I know," Eric says, sliding Dele's joggers down his legs, and then he stands, cupping the younger man's face in his hands. He leans forward, brushing their lips together in their barest of touches, but it makes tears sting at the back of Dele's eyes regardless. "I love you, too."

There are so many disappointments in his life. His (biological) family. Friends he's not really sure he can trust. Sometimes football, even though that's only been the one thing he's stuck to.

But he knows that beneath it all, right at the very core of it… When he comes home and sheds that skin, Eric will be there, waiting with open arms and a warm heart, ready to take him back and love him the way he's always deserved.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @ [bami-dele](https://bami-dele.tumblr.com/) xo


End file.
